Suguru Geto - Tumblr Posts
|You should at least curse me at the end.|
SatoSugu can have "God I hate you so much I hope you fall down the stairs" and "You are my entire world, my sun and my stars. I cherish every second we are together and every second we are apart is a second of my life I wish to be rid of if only to have your sweet words ruminate within my soul longer" coming from both parties at any time and I think that's beautiful
I genuinely think it's interesting that curses are born when there is nothing but negativity and turmoil and the thing that makes curses like Kenjaku and Sukuna falter is witnessing moments of both great sadness and pure affection.
Gojo knowing and calling out that Kenjaku could never be Geto despite every single ounce of logic in him stating otherwise because HE knew Geto. He loved him, adored him, admired him and grieved for him when he was gone.
Yuji reaching out desperately to the person he's come to care so much for and reflecting on how much his life would be missing if Megumi just wasn't in it anymore.
Wether you ship it or not it's genuinely such a touching look at how the people that can bring so much joy to life can also bring such a great sadness to it once they're gone.
"They can't be gay because the author said this-"
Brother, Gege Akutami could burst into my house like the Kool-Aid Man to personally tell me Gojo and Geto are straight and I'd still believe they were making out between missions.
Feel like this could be a meme template.
Young love... They don't know the tragedy ahead..
old film
summer and the cameras i can't bring myself to throw out
[五夏] 七夕の日🌟🎋 - Tanabata day
❬ 002 ❭ through my fault ⸝⸝ hence, mother knows best
synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.
genre. arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18
warnings. politics, undertones of manipulation
wc. 7.4K — a 20-30 minute read
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`"I wonder what the prince is up to?"
Far from the gelid lands of Arcadia, a Silvern prince; a frail prince, lived within the walls of this castle. There are rumours surrounding the man, for as one speaks of him, the whispers of falsity and concern came upon with his name.
Satoru Gojo, who was the lonesome Prince of Myriad.
"Why, princely duties, of course!"
The diminutive land belonging to the Gojos fell in symphonies of shock and interest as the words of messengers, noble people, and commoners spoke of the prevailing announcement that King [F/N] of Arcadia is bedridden and the backbone of the kingdom is collapsing. Surprisingly so, their decision is dependent on their so-called Cursed Princess' choice. A marriage unifying two kingdoms. It was a wise decision for most, but many came to despise Arcadia as a forsaken land for even the stupidest people know not to depend on broken rulers.
So they thought, of course. What do such commonfolk know about ruling a kingdom, anyway? Was it the gold embroidered around thrones; to flaunt such luxury? Was it the absolute monarchy over the people? Was it the aristocratic linkage that held kingdoms together? Or was it the pressure of keeping ongoing lineage— to breed, to raise, to marry, to rule? Was ruling a cycle for such royals or is there a deeper meaning behind holding ascendancy over their land?
What do they really know?
In a county surrounded by small commoners, a royal crier held up a scroll in front of him with one hand. His mustache is sleek and pointing outwards as he scrunches his nose to prepare for his following announcement. This royal crier, to which the young Satoru Gojo, recognized as one of his mother's servants, finally cleared his throat — quite obnoxiously — to gather the attention of the people.
"Hear Ye! Hear Ye!" The crier had called for the attention of the people. "On this day, two weeks hence, in the Palace of Arcadia there will be held a Royal Ball! At said ball, in accordance to ancient custom: Princess of Arcadia, Her Highness [Y/N], shall choose a spouse. Furthermore! At the behest of the Princess, it is hereby declared that every maiden and man in the kingdom, be them noble or commoner, is invited to attend. Such is the command of our most noble Queen Aia."
This would be the third time that week that the young man would have heard that announcement. For as he hid within the crowd of commoners, with his hood lifted over his handsome face, he could see everything just as well as he could hear everything. Whispers among young women arose within every corner of where he walked, he was very much entertained by such a commotion— it was merely just a ball! What's so special about one ball?
Ah, of course. How could the young prince forget? This ball was hosted by a—
"...cursed princes, that's what she is! Or so I've heard." A young peasant girl had squealed.
Her acquaintance hummed, "but what of the king; won't he have a funeral?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if he was murdered," said another unnamed maiden, "there's a lot going on in that forsaken kingdom... best we think naught of it."
There were a few things that many of the commoners forget about the announcement with the king. They only spoke of him as bedridden: nothing more. So nobody truly knows if he was dead or not, and even if he was at this fine moment, nobody would know of it until weeks after. As much as nobles loved to flaunt, royal families are quite exclusive about news such as that. And when it came to Arcadia, Satoru was indifferent about the tales within those castles; if he knew any better he wouldn't so much as think about what goes on in that kingdom.
But of course, this is Satoru Gojo: and he didn't know any better— or at least, he chooses not to.
"Excuse me, ladies, but if you don't mind me asking—" Satoru approaches the bickering maidens— "would you point me to where the Kugisaki seamstresses are?"
His voice came forth like silk among linen, easily swooning the women as their attention shifted toward the young Gojo. The white-haired man flashes a pearly smile, only barely visible under the silhouette of his hood. On of the two, fights the urge to fan her heating face when Satoru shifts his auric gaze toward her.
"Right up north, sir," clad in pink, she points in the direction. Her hair was fixed upwards in pigtail curls, lips masked with this rufescent tint.
The second one, a little shorter than she was, then adds, "to your left will be their wooden sign!"
"Many thanks, my ladies." Satoru flashes an amorous smile. "Have a good morning."
Inside the Kugisaki Shoppe, two noble ladies clean up after themselves. An abundance of weapons laid out in one corner as a young Zenin lady cleaned up after herself, while on the other side of said boutique, a young Kugisaki girl organized orders upon orders of suits, dresses, and uniforms. This was a shop in which many royals, nobles, and commoners alike came to find attire with the best of quality.
"The princess must be quite desperate if they're repeating announcements upon announcements upon announcements!" Nobara dragged her words with a dramatic gesture, her hands shooting upwards as she slumped.
Maki acknowledged her with a hum, "uh-huh."
"So lucky that lady is, to have so many men, women— kings and queens!— at her feet." Nobara continues to speak about the most recent and popular invitation. "She even invited the commoners! What kind of sane— or absurdly kind— princess would do that? Even I wouldn't bat an eye toward the peasants!"
“Uh-huh.”
Nobara rolls her eyes, "give me a little praise, will you? I'm just saying, Princess [Y/N] is just so... so unpredictable! She's incredibly wealthy, incredibly beautiful— from so I've heard— and so incredibly cursed. And despite that, so many men wish to marry her. Do you think that Prince Satoru would consider it?"
"That's nonsense, Nobara. What sane man would want to marry a cursed princess?" Maki retorts in a matter-of-fact tone.
In response to the previous' girl's words, Maki stood firmly with her statement as she continued to clean the abundance of spears before her. The brunette frowns at that, standing over the woman in spectacles as she crosses her arms over her chest. "But of course, there would be a solution to every curse! A lovely prince to break it~" Sang Nobara and Maki rolls her eyes at the hopeless romantic, pursing her lips together.
"Do you even know what the curse is?" Maki asks incredulously, while skillfully holding the spear in one hand to play with.
"Keep that thing away from me, Maki! You might ruin my dress!" Nobara shrieks at the woman's movements, briefly scolding her. Then subsequent to a suspire, the girl shakes her head obliviously. "And no, I'm not very sure of what her curse is... a lot of people have mixed feelings about it, you know? Like—" Nobara gestures with her hands— "perhaps she can turn into a monster at night, or that she has the ability to steal your soul... witchassery kind of stuff..."
Maki ignores the girl's crude language, "everything there is to know about her are nothing but a bunch of fables and tales." Nobara listened in interest and Maki's words came as followed: "Nobody truly knows what her curse is. No one but her family, I presume, which is why many are afraid of her."
Right, because what you don't know or understand is what you're most afraid of.
Maki fixed the weapons into a large bag, effortlessly carrying it on her back. The dark-haired girl, unlike other women of noble standing, wore around her waist a shorter skirt that flowed easily whenever she walked. She was dressed in attire with the intent to fight and not look pretty; quite the opposite of the brown-haired girl. Maki had been serving in the Gojo Castle as a lady-in-waiting alongside Nobara, and despite this frail position she found solace in training with the prince on his free time.
"Well, what about you, Maki?" Nobara asks. "Are you afraid of her?"
The dark-haired girl had run away from her family's clutches at the age of 15, running into the Gojo Clan upon trying to steal from one of their servants. Instead of being punished by the family, however, the current Regent Queen of the Gojo family had taken Maki in. It was no secret that she was a Zenin girl, for what distinguishes a woman who was raised in the Zenin household and a woman from any other family would be the mark on their backs that resembled their family crest.
Maki shakes her head, smiling idly. "What's there to be afraid of? She's merely just be a princess, Nobara. Rumours are bound."
Before the younger girl had the opportunity to speak, the two ladies were greeted by the uninvited presence of the prince who nonchalantly waltzed around town in a less than believable disguise. The door to the shop opened with the shrill harmony of bells, Satoru's long legs striding inside as he set down his hood to reveal his youthful face.
"Maki, Nobara!~ How are you, ladies?" He smiled widely while offering the dark-haired girl a hand with the abundance of weapons sitting on her back. Much to the Gojo's amusement, Maki declined his help.
"We were just talking about the recent announcement from Arcadia." Nobara shrugs. Unaffected by the flippancy of the brunette's tone, Satoru continued to listen to the young lady speak. Commonly, a woman would greet the prince or princess of the palace with a bow or courtesy, but with Satoru he saw past such traditional roles and behaviour as he taught his younger acquaintances not to treat him like so. For he was more than this prince that many seemed to look up to with immeasurable expectancy. "At first we were speaking about the bad omens surrounding the poor lady, but until you came, I was about to bring up the topic of who is willing to marry that princess..."
Nobara glances at the dark-haired girl.
In distinction to the way that both ladies stood, they could catch the way the light-haired man's irises beamed in curiosity. From the way the older prince absorbed the information— as well as the unmistakable simper that marked its way on his handsome face— Maki's lips gaped open as she scoffed in disbelief. "Oh no. No, no, no, you're not actually considering—"
Satoru blows a raspberry, crossing his arms over his chest and almost immediately he responded, "I was only thinking about it." He scratches his cheek sheepishly, though his words said one thing his countenance expressed a whole different implication. "Besides, it would be about the right time for me to take over the throne one day, you know? Mother isn't exactly in the brightest position as we speak..."
Maki rolls her eyes, "and what makes you think that you're in any position to make such drastic commitments?"
What came out as a harsh question was taken as a sermon, for to Satoru, the idea of taking the crown for himself was nothing short of bliss. He had been concealed in this castle for too long, the protectiveness of his mother was not something he despised as he knew well of the weight that a crown may carry. But as a new arrival of suitors, queens, and princesses presented themselves to him; Satoru can only advocate the idea that—
"—I'm ready," was the silvern man's response, "and I'm bored."
That's a lie, Maki thought, who would do this out of boredom?
When Satoru looks down, he could already see how the way her honey-coloured eyes are tempered with the impassion of a thousand suns, for not even Icarus dared to meet her fiery gaze, "and you came to this decision because you were 'bored'?" It would seem that she completely disregarded his first statement, but Satoru did not see to it to bring it up once more. This was a picky topic for Maki— just as it was for him, but he did not treat it like so. "And Arcadia, of all kingdoms, why would you choose Arcadia?"
In addition to Maki's words, Nobara continues, "with all due respect, my Prince, but isn't that a little careless?"
The white-haired man shrugs, "I'd like to do something of my own accord for once. I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind that." And before Maki could retort with her own personal declarations, Satoru faces the younger girl with an all-too radiant smile. "Don't worry, Maki. I wouldn't dare do anything that you would dislike. Be grateful that I am not explicitly considering the Zenin's— I never did, anyway."
He had attempted to make the final sentence come out as a joke, but Maki's feelings came out within one distant suspire; "You're an idiot, Satoru." She had spoken the first name of her teacher for the first time that day, so casually, so venomously; for a moment Satoru felt uneasy because of her following words. "The people of Arcadia are in alliance with the Zenin's, don't you know?"
Of course Satoru knew, but he thought nothing of it because he knew that Maki was not worried about the idea that Zen'ins might just grow in power with the company of the Gojos; she was disturbed about the idea of having to see them again.
"The [L/N]'s and Zenin's are two different families, Maki." Unaffected by her words, Satoru remains apathetic with the way she clenched her fist beside the skirt of her dress. "Just because one is affiliated with the other, does not remotely mean that they are the same kind. You should know that much about us by now."
'Us,' that is what Satoru referred to his kin as a part of a royal family as well as a part of the kingdoms that sought dominion along with these Earthly lands. Many would see such as indifferent from each other; for every kingdom had their own kings and queens, dukes and duchesses; these domains possessing such prowess and authority. They were no different from each other, for every Royal was the same— that is what people often assumed, that is what Maki assumed.
Not once has Maki doubted Satoru, he, the Prince that had oh-so mercilessly taken under his wing despite belonging to a family that despised him. Maki had little respect for him as a man of his own characteristics, but as a Prince, who was soon to be King, Maki knows that in her own head, Satoru Gojo was in a league of his own as a ruler. He was special, that is what she believed, he was special and extremely unpredictable; so is it right for her to judge his choices?
"How can you be so sure that this is the right decision?" Maki finally spoke in question.
A smile makes its way onto his handsome face and the man lifts his blindfold to meet the younger girl's determined irises. "I know." His voice laced with confidence and he pats both girls on their heads, having no regard for the way Nobara shoots him a scowl. "I suppose it's alright to trust your gut sometimes. But I'll let you know that if I end up disliking my decision, I'll allow you to say 'I told you so.'" He chuckled. "If the time comes, of course. But when is that ever the case?"
"Does this mean your mother doesn't know?" Nobara finally speaks up in question. "Yet, at least... it has been a while since we have gone out of the palace for such an event, from what I've recalled. I'm afraid it might startle her, even." Nobara was an easily-concerned girl, though she hid it behind the face of materialism and boldness, she knew the Queen like the back of her hand. Having been raised to serve her as a handmaid at one point, it only came naturally that the young girl would think about the older lady's wellbeing.
"She'll know when I return to the castle." Satoru pats her head, grinning at her perturb. "And besides, I was prepared for this moment. I know I'm ready, so there is no need to worry." His expression was enough to convince both girls as they bow their heads politely at the Prince. In that moment of silence, Maki couldn't help but feel uneasy about his decision. But alas, this was the Satoru Gojo that she had learned to acknowledge. He was unpredictable and she knew that sometimes, it is better not to know what is truly going on in his head. "Now, onto the purpose of my visitation!"
Maki's thoughts are ripped from the space of her head as she unamusingly faces the loud Prince. "Right, of course," said Maki in a murmur.
"The ball is in two weeks and I'd like you to tailor for me the finest suit." Satoru holds up a finger as he speaks, Nobara hums slowly as she listens to the Prince. Much to her relief, Maki took out some ink and paper so that she could write down his request. "As for my mother, She would like for her gown to be turquoise; made from the finest silk, of course, and I promise to pay you accordingly."
Nobara hums, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah? How much?"
"Depends on the finished product," the prince responds suggestively.
"Is that a joke or a challenge?" Nobara raises her brows.
Maki sighs, "you say that about everything, Nobara."
"300,000 yen. Take it or leave it." Gojo grins. "I'm sure that is—"
"—more than enough!" Nobara clasps her hands together, her cheeks flaming with delight as her response seemed to please the young Gojo. "It shall be done by then, your highness!" Nobara had spoken out in glee and with that.
Venturing back to his home, embracing the dominating gigantism it radiated, Satoru could not help but feel... embarrassed. It had been a long time since he had brought up the idea of responsibility to his mother. He was always one who liked to do things on his own; no assistance, only guidance. Sure, he has had a fair share of lectures from his mother— a prince does not speak with his mouth full! or a prince is always mindful of his subjects. Never has his mother addressed him as a future heir to the throne. Was it because she believed he was not ready? What was she afraid of?
The Silvern prince was also embarrassed because he felt... nervous. Pride and confidence came naturally to him. In essence, he had always been a hard-headed boy, often regarding his own curiousities and ponderations more than he regarded his place as a noble. He barely asked for help, for he was always the one offering that helping hand. Satoru was a kind prince, a curious one. This trait allowed commoners and other neighbouring countries to perceive him as frail.
Upon greeting his mother's ladies-in-waiting with a kind smile, he approaches his mother's meditation room with a mindful guard. She was a very spiritual woman, having the highest remarks about the importance of her peace and mind. The woman had attempted to pass this mindset of hers to her son, but Satoru— choosing not to know any better— was an explosive universe of cerebrations. He did not want to limit himself, because he wanted to live his life with infinite ambitions.
The young prince could recall his mothers words for him when he was a young teenager; that as a prince, decision making would mean that he dies at every exhale, and comes back to life with every inhale. She said that, when he is holding a sword in front of an enemy, every movement can be his last; every attack his downfall. There is no right or wrong; no fast or slow, there is only him.
Him, and the thin line that separates one eternal exhale from other countless ones.
Perhaps that's the reason the Gojo's were presented as the most notorious. After all: his energy, his unshakable confidence and prideful nature; but also the experience and wisdom only the merciless could provide. Satoru had the eyes of a hunter, the reflexes of a feline; a heart that burned in passion and a lively soul that saw no evil — but also knew how to defeat it, if told to do so.
Lord Satoru, Prince of Myriad — as he was known around the kingdom — was the perfect Prince. He had the obedience, but he also had the individuality. Had the muscles, but also the intelligence. He was quiet and then loud, patient and then immediatist. He was fluid as a river, laughing at the face of entropy and surprising his enemies at every new battle. He was inconstant, he was unpredictable. He was feared. Respected.
But that, of course, was merely the image commoners and fellow knights and nobles among kingdoms had of him. To only a few, Satoru was far more complex — much more damaged — than that. Beyond the spark of innocence within his eyes, there was the lost, lonely soul of a forgotten child; of a boy who had to fight to survive, who found himself holding the sword he once ran from. The image of the Gojo was forged in the fear he now cultivated in the hearts of his enemies — and that was the reason why he despised such presumptuous title.
"Frail Prince" some would claim him to be, for he barely went out of his castle unless it was a noble event. "A would-be Strong Ruler" was what others would say, as he was raised and fabricated under his father's strong ideals and his mother's incomparable grace; and he saw himself as such. He wasn't just a prince within this realm of Myriad, no, for the stars have foretold his destiny as a ruler: King Satoru Gojo of Myriad. And the truth behind that prophecy, began with you.
"I want to marry the Princess of Arcadia."
Satoru's mother, an elegant woman who was much more shorter than her son, was clad in a beautiful turquoise gown that dragged behind her as she walked. Her platinum locks contrasted Satoru's white own, making her appear younger than she originally was. But it was the wise crow's feet that kissed on the corners of her eyes and the smiling lines on her cheeks, that exhibited her years of ruling and years of sapient knowledge that she had come to acquire. The woman, Saeko Gojo, raised a thin brow at her son's statement, facing the young boy as he strides toward her.
"Did I hear that correctly, son?" She inquired, approaching the man as she rests her aging fingers against his cheek. "Surely, I must be hearing things. You want to do what, Satoru?"
Saeko was an intelligent, graceful, and incredibly kind woman. But she was also easily startled. She often overthinked, and was quite overprotective over those around her; from her ladies-in-waiting, the handmaid's that have served her, to her son— the Prince.
"Well, mother..." Satoru cleared his throat, feeling himself stiffen as he struggled to formulate his following words. "I have heard various announcements about the Princess of Arcadia, Lady [Y/N], and her most recent aspirations... she is searching for a suitor and, well, I believe that this is an opportunity for me to find my place as a King."
His mother remained silent, curling her hands to her side in thought. "That princess... Arcadia, you say? Why not elsewhere?"
"Pardon me?" Satoru blinked a few times.
His mother did not seem against the idea of a marriage, was what Satoru thought, but what did people have against Arcadia?
Saeko purses her scarlet-painted lips together before releasing a sigh. "Satoru, that Princess in Arcadia is accursed. You cannot be betrothed to a woman who lives with a horrible omen!" The lady fans her face dramatically and Satoru forces himself not to sigh loudly when she continues to speak. "She is cursed, my boy. Why would you consider her as a candidate to rule Myriad as Queen?"
This is exactly what he had overheard Maki and Nobara say. Why do they speak so illy of the kingdom?
"Arcadia is also in need of a King, mother," Satoru attempts to counter, "we are just has helpless as they are. We are strong, yes, but many might take advantage of our vulnerable situation—"
"—that girl is damned." Saeko repeats sternly. "God help her soul, but we shall not get involved with such a impuissant family."
Satoru crosses his arms imprudently, raising the question that has lingered within the depths of his trepidations upon the very first time that he has heard of your existence as "The Cursed Princess of Arcadia." Satoru speaks out loud, leaning against one of the pillars with a narrowed look. "Cursed... cursed... how so?"
His mother's heels click as she paces around the room, seemingly thinki carefully about her following words. "Ah!" As if a lightbulb had presumptuously lit up above her head, she pointed a matter-of-factory finger up toward her son. "Well, there was a village eradicated under her rule—"
"That was 43 years ago, mother," Satoru interrupts, "way before she and I were even born. And the patriarch would never allow for an unmarried woman of royalty to rule over such vast lands... that is simply... unacceptable to the church."
And as absurd as that speculation was, it was true; Satoru knew better than many that women are frowned upon on the seat of the throne— this such includes his mother who has been ruling in her husband's light for many years since his death.
Satoru was well aware of his books. Often clinging onto such knowledge like a mantra. It was what his father would have wanted after all. He had the privilege of higher education, he had access to books, scrolls, and writings dating back to the very first monarch. The Gojo's were strong, but they were not terrible: for knowledge had always been their greatest ally. And so, king upon king; legacy upon legacy; Satoru wanted to follow the tradition of education within the dynasty, and that began with his wit with his books. The young prince may have had the grace that his mother so easily embraced, but he also possessed the heart of a formidable ruler— a trait he had thanks to his great father.
His mother, however, saw past such writings as she was concerned for the conservation of their lineage. She was ecstatic that her son wished to consider marrying for his rightful title as King, but she was also anxious about the ominous myths and whispers regarding the Kingdom of Arcadia.
"And what about that great famine that fell upon their kingdom...?" His mother was restless as she was looking for excuses at this point. "Their rise in taxes! The demand for crops..?"
Satoru was amused by his mothers claims and he further entertained her ideas with a minuscule smile. "Again, mother, was under King [F/N]'s rule and his wife, Queen Aia." The white-haired man watches the way his mother's expression morphs into one of defeat. Satoru continues to speak. "If anything, her parents are perceived as tyrants, but I do believe not her."
"The witch! Oh, the wicked witch, Satoru. she had conspired with the child on her sixth birthday I heard! What else could that possibly mean?" His mother seemed insufferable in the eyes of others, but to Satoru she were merely porotective. What else could he do other than to accept that she was so stubborn?
"She was just a child," the prince immediately counters, "if I were, say, visited by a witch or a warlock or a sorcerer as a child, would you accuse me of being so damned?"
"Of course not, you are my son—"
"Then what difference could that possibly make for Princess [Y/N]?" Satoru then responded, choosing not to point out the sudden shift on the atmosphere. He noticed melancholy clawing its ways through his mother's thoughts. But Satoru continued to insist, stepping toward his mother with long strides. "Allow me to visit her kingdom at the ball, hosted two weeks from today. If I do not like her, I shall listen to your advices and give you the pleasure of choosing my partner for me."
"But my boy, you are frail—"
Satoru was aware that his mother immersed herself in royal gossip that roamed within the walls of his own home. From the lowest of maidens to the highest of priests— sometimes, even the archbishop! The boy knew, there was always something buzzing about within his kingdom of Myriad.
It was profoundly irritating how flawlessly his mind recalled the vexious timbre of those lower class servants, echoing those sentences at the back of his mind — as much as he was truly grateful for their loyalty and assistance, the constant bickering could be extremely invasive to endure, "The gods continuously play games with my patience," he took a deep breath, pretending to be more bothered than he actually felt. "How could you use that against me?" He almost whined and his mother frowns at that. "Frail, is not what I am," responded the man, "the only reason people perceive me for such a thing is because I hide behind the shadow of a Queen waiting to be removed— you, mother. when I am married, king, emperor of this barren kingdom; I shall be and by will, become the strongest ruler. Not for you, not for father, but for my people; and if not, myself."
His mother knew that none of this was fun and games for her son. He was serious about this, about the kingdom that would soon be his; about you, no matter how cursed or ill-thought of as you were around the lands. She let out a small sigh and briefly the woman swooned at her own son who seemed to grow out of this skin that always hid behind her.
"Alas spoken like a true King." Saeko rests both her hands against his cheeks, admiring her grown boy. Then she adds, "praise be."
"It's what you raised me to do, mother," Satoru smiled wryly, "mother knows best."
Everything in this castle, no matter how long you have spent roaming these walls have always been, for the lack of a better term, blurry. Between the images you contemplated and the light and shadow that built them together, lived a myriad of shapes and glows that you could never quite characterize, but accompanied you regardless of your approval. It was as if different tenses coexisted at the very same instant, actions sometimes delayed by mere seconds, but when placed on top of one another, turned into a kaleidoscopic progression of phantasmagoric forms. It was both dream-like and nightmarish; comforting and threatening. Hallucinatory, even.
Among the endless shelves of the Library, your eyes trained toward those white steps that were dangerously similar to a creature's teeth, the waltz of coordinated books appeared to be a tongue moving in its interior. There was something about those endless stairs drowning in penumbra that felt like a forewarning to you, the image of the consequences you could face if you were not careful enough.
"[Y/N]? How does this look?"
Your eyes flickered over toward the inky paper that Kara held up. Her fingers trembling as she held firmly a feather on her left hand and on her right, she held up a sheet that so messily had the writings of her soon-to-be surname: Geto. You had almost forgotten that you were helping your best friend practice scripting her further name, as you found yourself immersed by the countless mysteries of this castle.
You haven't been yourself since the announcement of the ball, that was for sure.
"I think you're getting better." You point out gracefully. You bring a finger toward her letter 'r' and add, "that looks like an 'n' so you should fix that as well." You help the dark-haired woman, taking her hand to assist her. It was quite difficult teaching her, as she was dominantly left-handed, but you attempted to help her albeit this situation. You are her friend and it was the least that you could do.
Her mouth gaped at that, eyes gazing at the stygian letters that ornamented the sheet's surface, "must scripting be so difficult?" She wails silently — considering you both were in the library — and she puckers her lips in a slight huff. "You have to do this everyday, right? Don't your wrists get exhausted, princess?"
"They do, but it is my duty to keep moving forward," a small laugh escapes your lips.
"Duty this, duty that—" Kara's tongue swept through the surface of her lips briefly as she continued to speak, unaware of the presence that approached the both of you— "you should give yourself more credit, [Y/N]. Stop boring yourself with these duties and live a little."
You shrug, "I will," but then as your words flow out of your mouth, your chest tightens, "after I've accomplished what needs to be done, Kara. That is the story of my life, after all."
Before Kara could further counter your claims, you could hear the clicks of heels within your proximity and your head moves upwards as you are greeted by the face of your—
"Mother?" you called out, surprised. Mindlessly, your fingers held the thin feather with more force than necessary, eyes falling to the unbelonging turquoise-covered book in her hands. "What are you doing here?"
The Queen raised her eyebrows at your flippant tone, gaze traveling gradually to your direction. As she saw you, a faint smile effloresced upon her features, causing for wrinkles to accumulate on the sides her tired eyelids, "This is a lovely environment to think, I suppose that is why you come here so often," she answered with simplicity, closing the object in her hands with a muffled sound. "I am glad I could find you today, though, we need to start thinking about your wedding arrangements."
You were taken aback by her sudden sentence, but immediately you acknowledge her claims with a slight nod. "O-Of course..." You set down the feather, glancing at Kara briefly. Followed by a suspire, the both of you are also startled by the presence of Suguru making his way in your direction.
Upon seeing her fiancé's figure approaching her, Kara yelps and the small container of ink falls on her dress. Her clumsy nature was something you'd never underestimate, but her timing has always been horrible. Your mother watches with a raised brow, the dress that has been gifted to her was soiled and the Queen's unreadable expression only made you feel more the worst. You feel yourself tense at her behaviour, almost praying to whatever Gods above to help her poor soul.
If any shadows of horror were casted over her features, your best friend managed to disguise them well. "Oh dear...!" She tried scrubbing the ink of her dress with her hands, only it spread further. What was she doing?! You almost wailed.
Much to your distress, Suguru came to her rescue as he came by her side. "This is quite a familiar sight, love," chuckled the man, "allow me to take my fiancé to her chambers to clean up, while I leave both Her Highnesses to it." He bows respectfully, taking Kara's inky hands without hesitation, and leaving the library.
You heave out a long sigh.
"I apologize for that disorderly commotion, mother," you apologize on behalf of your friend, "about the wedding preparations... would you like to speak at the—"
Sculpted by the evening lights that came from the window, her features were immersed in scalding hues, burning in amber and gold, "the library is inhabited, my dear, so we can stay here." She had gestured for you to take a seat on the spot where Kara was before. "The ball is coming to a close, I'm afraid, and we still haven't thought about the dress you'd be wearing."
"We've got plenty of time—" you tried to speak but once more you were interrupted by your mother's words.
"—I'm not talking about time, [Y/N], I'm talking about quality. There will be many suitors coming after all," she nodded, and you heard something other than calmness in her tone. There was a hidden prospect in her stance, a mysterious reason for her presence in such place, "thus I've developed a schedule for you. That way you don't have to waste your time here—" she gestured with her hands, clearly referring to your time spent with Kara— "and that way, we may do things more efficiently. I've also bought products from opposing kingdoms that will definately suit this occasion..." Oblivious to your own actions, you stood in place, rigid. She began to ramble with no regard of this buzz in your head. "Perhaps you'd like white lilies to match the fabric? They would look marvelous decorating your hair, and I do believe they are in season! And your skin, oh, we must fix that immediately as no man wants a prickled face!"
As she kept talking, filling your head with future preparations and repetitive requests, the confusion and averse thoughts you had endured for so long bubbled fervently inside of your stomach. Before you could censor yourself, all that exploded on your lips in the form of a simple question: "mother, what if... I'm not ready...?"
Your mother blinked, shaking her head slightly at the disruption. "I'm sorry, love?"
"What if I don't feel ready?" You clarified. "I know, I've been studying this my whole life, but with father's decline I wish to spend more time with him and not on... this." You choose your following words cautiously, knowing one wrong thought might disappoint the Queen.
"It was your father's request, my dear," she tried to sound punctual with her sentences— she did not want to appear as the bad guy, as she understood your circumstances. But if it were her decision, you'd be married without this long waiting period; if she could, she would have chosen a suitor for you already.
You shake your head slightly, your fingers falling on top of each other as you fidget. "We both know that, once father meets the Gods, you could be the Regent Queen for as long as Arcadia were to need." You tried to reason. "You're much better at this than I ever will be— the people, they trust in you more than they do in me." You were looking for excuses at this point.
Even if you managed to mask your nervousness well, you were terrified. You've heard plenty of stories from your ladies-in-waiting about how they are treated by their husbands. Some don't come home at all, some are treated to harshly, and most only regard your ladies as baby-rearing machines— it was a disgusting thought, but it was a reality for most women. And when you thought about your mother, you often wondered, is this how she felt when her family offered her to your father?
"Arcadia does not need me," your mother smiled, placing her hands in front of her scarlet dress — deep as blood. "They need you, love. They want hope, not the same old—"
"—Mother, stop," deep inside your mind, you could not believe that you were talking back to your family member like that, interrupting the Queen like she was nothing above a irritating maid. "Can't I wait a little longer? Let me convince father that it is too soon."
You could see as her superior posture slowly broke underneath the harshness of your gaze. The Queen, facing your moral judgment, saw in your eyes that you understood more than the untruths dripping from her mouth — she had raised you for that, after all. You would be a marvelous ruler one day, "Dear, your..." she started, taking that battle as lost. "Your father is fragile, I am fragile. I may hold an equal respect as he does, but that is because I earned it; you must win these peoples hearts and that begins with a reliable man."
Your thoughts move back toward Kara. She was to be married soon as well and as happy as you were for her, you were envious that she had one thing that you did not: time. She had so much time. With her fiancé, her family, and herself. You pondered, did she have to think about the satisfaction of her significant other when she heard that she would be wedded to him? Did she feel just as anxious as you did?
"How long do I have after the ball until the wedding ceremony?" You mustered up, feeling your fingers grow numb at this thought of burden falling on your shoulders. Truthfully, you believed that you weren't ready— you never could be ready.
She traced her fingers over one of the golden letters embedded against a book, humming to herself. "I am speculating little less than three months. Plenty of time to get familiar with your future husband." The final sentence seemed to be more of a forewarning than one of comfort.
"I see, mother," your eyes snapped back to her face in a quiet prayer that she did not notice the way you had spaced out too long, your expression surfacing into one of of apathy; to which masked your fear of the future, fear for what's to come. "Thank you for... your time and assistance."
She faked a smirk, ignoring the clear sarcasm in your tone — no amount of petulance from your part could cover up the fact that she had, as desired, reached her primordial goal: you would choose a prince then get married, and your people would be saved. Alongside with her reputation, that was, "No problem, my dear, your mother knows what's best, after all!" She sang, seeming to quickly be reminded of something else, "And, oh!" your mother exclaimed, "tell your dear lady, Kara, congratulations on her engagement with Geto. She chose a very fine man… it's a shame you didn't get to him first." She murmurs the final part.
But you heard that.
"Pardon me?" You wanted her to repeat her claims, feeling your own ears were deceiving you.
"Nothing my dear, just relay her congratulations," you let out a sigh of relief when she repeats her words. "I will be retiring to my chambers now. Don't forget to pray about your future, the archbishop recommends it." She eyes your direction and you nod slowly, bowing your head in respect. "And don't over think it—" you wanted her to comfort you, and you expected her to do so, but instead her words came as followed: "the wrinkles would look horrible at your age."
You took a deep breath. Your internal battle had been lost before it even started. "I understand it is for the best," you were lying to yourself— to her. Were these dishonest claims all a product of your anxiety toward what's to come with your future husband?
The Queen chuckled, entertained, "I know you do," with a last caress on your shoulder, she started to walk towards the dark passageway, every step sending shivers down your spine. You stood there, motionless, as the sounds of her departure seemed to echo inside your mind. Behind you, her timbre sliced the air one last time. "Have a lovely evening, sweetheart. I will start looking for white lilies for your dress today."
Her heels clicked as she walked away.
With that, the door clicked shut.
You knew that in the following mornings, more and more expectations would bear against your shoulders. And as a princess, it was inevitable for you to follow such duties; to please your mother.
You felt certain after all, she was there to guide you because she knew what was best for you.
Hence, mother knows best.
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[ In the sky in my mind,
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- Terrible Things, Brick + Mortar
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Suguru shortly after visits that village(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
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